New York
by no exits
Summary: She looks for an appreciation in the way Rocky breathes, looks to find the comfort she used to find in their shared silence. Instead, she shivers with cold. - rocky/cece


_**AN:**_ An up-front thank you to everyone reading this story, first of all. To clear up any confusion you might have, this story acts as a different take on 1x18, Model it Up, where Rocky is offered a modeling job in New York. For anyone who is curious, the lyrics are from New York by Snow Patrol, which was a huge inspiration in writing this. I highly suggest you give it a listen, not only because it's a good song but because it captures a lot of the emotion in the story. I appreciate any comments/revisions/anything you have to say about the story, so don't be shy to leave a review or send me a message. Thanks again!

* * *

**New York**

_._

_If you were here beside me, instead of in New York_

_if the curve of you is curved on me._

_I'd tell you that I loved you, before I ever knew you_

'_cause I love the simple thought of you._

_._

There was the inevitable knocking on the door and it sent ice through CeCe's veins. There was the television too, but the loud music blaring from it paled in comparison to the small taps that had frozen her. Numbly, she turns off her set and drifts to the window, pausing at the end of her short trek. Here, she believes she can stay and pretend it's anyone else at the window. But it's not, and CeCe won't, because (without knowing much about the world in general) CeCe knows that she has to face this. _Tap, tap._

So she does open up and, on account of her actions, she falls – well, on account of Rocky's actions, actions of which are unusually rash. Rocky immediately launches into a speech, something much more familiar to her character.

"I'm not going, CeCe, I'm not going – I've thought about it so much and really, it was only the selfish part of me that wanted it. New York…that's _great_, but it's not for me. I have dreams here at Shake it Up, and I don't want to throw all of it away for something that I don't even know will work out the way I want for it to. And how could it, considering I'm only fourteen and I've got so many other dreams to chase, so many other dreams to be in love with. Right here."

CeCe notices the meaningful way Rocky looks at her while saying the last words, and the depth of what she just hinted at overwhelms her. She'd always wished she could be as perfect as Rocky about wording things. There were many thoughts CeCe wanted to articulate properly, but with words meaning becomes hollow, interpretations many. Only CeCe would ever know what CeCe knew, she supposed, and maybe for the better. Most things were easier not to face, anyway.

"They have a Shake it Up, New York," CeCe says in an accidental whisper.

"Yeah, they have…that." Rocky worries her lower lip and CeCe curses herself. There's nothing she can do now, not when Rocky will be gone in twelve hours' time.

"You _love_ New York."

"I love New York here, but that doesn't mean I'll love New York in New York."

"That makes no sense," CeCe insists, and before Rocky can prove her wrong she continues. "You have to go, Rocks. I know it's scary, geez, it scares me, but you have to. It's like, a one in a bazillion chance."

For the first time, Rocky moves from off the top of CeCe, pushing herself to lean her back against the Jones' couch. CeCe rolls on her stomach and props her head on her elbow, eyes curiously studying Rocky's face. It's a shock to see her with such a grim attitude, frown contrasting starkly against the deep red fabric behind. "I wish you were going with me," Rocky admits quietly.

_I do too,_ CeCe thinks, but three words are just not enough and she doesn't want to make this any harder for Rocky. She deserves a proper goodbye. As proper as words can form.

"Stop," CeCe commands. "That's not going to change anything. You're going to New York and you're going to love it, with or without me." CeCe pulls herself closer to where Rocky sits and grabs her hand, turning it palm up. "And I know you're going to be a really famous model someday, but right now what you need is a few fans to start you off. I have to stay here and be your biggest fan, right here in Chicago."

Rocky looks down and CeCe busies herself by playing with each and every one of Rocky's long fingers, running along the smooth, dark skin in slow and irregular patterns. It's one of the little things. To know that she would never – to know that it would be such a long time before she saw the grooves of Rocky's hands. It makes CeCe desperate to memorize them now, finger tracing every outline.

Rocky watches with vague interest, but her real thoughts seem so far away that CeCe doesn't bother kidding herself into believing Rocky thinks of her.

"CeCe."

CeCe hums in acknowledgement.

Rocky doesn't speak at first, so Cece tears her attention from Rocky's hands to her face. Rocky's not smiling but she leans in and kisses CeCe on the cheek anyway. She closes her eyes and when she opens them Rocky has leaned back, maybe gauging her reaction. It's nothing new. Rocky and CeCe often showed signs of affection such as this, but never so tender, and never when the moment has such a spark.

For CeCe, it means something important that she wishes she could act on. But Rocky is going to New York, so on the outside she shows no emotion – Deuce and Ty would be proud. They'd agreed to set her free, and telling Rocky that she is possibly, in the most dangerously way in love with her would certainly endanger that.

"CeCe, I really…I really –"

"I know." CeCe's throat tightens but she nods anyways. "I know, Rocky."

"Right." Rocky stands up quickly and wipes at her face, though there's no tears. CeCe doesn't stand, yet somehow she feels as if she's the one falling. "Good night."

"Good night, Rocky."

Rocky hesitates and then leaves. She closes the window behind her. CeCe doesn't feel the breeze against the window, but she feels the storm approaching with every moment.

And she breaks down.

.

.

The next day, CeCe waves solemnly to the dark limo as it pulls away from their – her – apartment building. The car leaves. CeCe turns. The storm begins.

.

.

_One year later._

"Hello."

"Rocky…Blue?"

"Don't act so surprised, CeCe."

"I _am_ surprised."

"Yeah. So…keeping up with your school work?"

"My…? What the hell?"

"Pardon?"

"No. I'm not…Rocky Blue doesn't say 'pardon.' I'm also pretty sure she calls her best friend more than once a year, and when she does, she doesn't ask about school work." CeCe had left the living room upon answering the call, and now stood in her closed bedroom, one arm crossed over her stomach, lips parted in disbelief.

"It hasn't been a year. I called you right after I left…"

"Once!" CeCe throws an arm in the air. "You called _once_, Rocky. You said you were fine. That's all I've gotten for a whole year. I'm not done," she interrupts, as Rocky attempts to chime in. "I tried to call you after that day. You don't know how many times I tried to call you. But some dude said I was – what'd he say? – said I was breaching your contract. I didn't know you had a contract that said 'no best friends allowed.'"

"I'm sorry, but -"

"You're not!" CeCe thunders, and she surprises herself by realizing that, after a year, there's still a tear threatening to be break loose. "You're not sorry or you would've called. Or answered."

"I wanted to, CeCe," Rocky finally manages. She sounds desperate over the phone. "I wanted to call you…I wanted to talk to you, to –"she stops, and CeCe can hear her regaining her breath on the other line. "My manager said that models can't have baggage. You're my baggage, I guess. Don't snort at that."

"Wow. You've changed, but you're still a really bad liar."

"I'm not lying to you right now!"

"Why are you calling?" CeCe asks, wiping at her face. There's only so long until Rocky will be able to tell she's crying, and she wants the conversation to end. She can't stand this, hearing Rocky in such a different way, in such a faraway place. She just can't.

Rocky sighs. "Happy birthday."

CeCe pauses her pacing. She'd become so emotionally invested in this conversation, in Rocky – she'd completely forgotten the day. Her expression temporarily lightens, eyebrows furrowing as she's met with a wave of regret. Maybe Rocky is telling the truth. It isn't like CeCe had expected their relationship to not change at all, but going from best friends and dance partners to nothing in the course of a week had been too much of a shock for her.

And now all Rocky is trying to do is set things straight, and CeCe had exploded on her. Her shoulders drop and she swallows hard, surely audible to Rocky.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry I ruined your day." CeCe ran a hand through her bangs.

"You're fine." She pauses and then adds, "thank you."

Neither speaks for a full minute. CeCe looks for an appreciation in the way Rocky breathes, looks to find the comfort she used to find in their shared silence. Instead, she shivers with cold. "I miss you." She betrays herself in a whisper. It's true. Since Rocky had left, she'd been alone, excluding a few other Shake it Up members who had become closer to her. Even Günther and Tinka had shown sympathy for Rocky's departure, something that CeCe didn't want or ask for. But most of all, she misses Rocky, being around Rocky, talking to Rocky, everything she is.

"I know."

"…goodbye."

"Right. Bye." CeCe immediately hangs up and drops her phone, walking numbly to her bed. She traces over the grooves of the sheets before climbing on them. She closes her eyes.

.

.

_One year later._

CeCe sits on the terrace steps, tracing patterns on the railing. The skies are completely clear excluding the moon and stars, which shine brightly through the absence of clouds. Below her, traffic occasionally announces itself in city sounds, the passengers either night birds or perhaps someone arriving home after a long, long trip. CeCe Jones listens to them not for boredom but for delay of what she is forcing herself to do.

Beside her sits a cell phone, its screen darkened. Suddenly CeCe reaches out for it, tapping its surface and biting her lower lip. The number has already been dialed, which means that there is no time for CeCe to stall longer. She hits call and brings it to her ear, heart in her throat.

It's not as though she expects an answer. It hadn't worked for her a couple of years ago, and she is not under the impression it will now. But no matter how improbable, doubt always has a way of working its way into minds and destroying all hope against hope. The doubt is there, poisoning all rational thought with the racing of her heart.

"CeCe." What was racing stops.

"Rocky." The words are terribly quiet.

"Why are you calling me?"

"Because I'm -" CeCe catches herself. Why? The most reasonable question, and yet she had no answer for Rocky. For herself, undeniably herself, she knows, but now that Rocky is so close in that wicked way she knew she isn't going to be able to admit it. "I need to hear your voice, 's all."

"My guard is right outside. He won't be happy about this."

"Then why did you answer?" CeCe asks, unable to hide that she's hurt. Rocky's tone of voice is steady and uncaring, with no reminder of the girl CeCe knew before. Even the warmth she'd detected one year ago over the phone is gone, replaced with something foreign.

"Because I need to talk to you too."

"Really?"

"Yes." Then, "stop calling me."

CeCe's faint smile fades, and she clutches the phone tighter. "…what?"

"Stop calling. Don't text me, and don't…don't even think about me, CeCe."

"Why would you say that?" CeCe's volume does not change, but suddenly it feels to her like every word she says it caught up in traffic. Rocky, however, is perfectly clear, her voice direct and demanding. She wishes it wouldn't be so loud, right in her ear. She wishes Rocky wouldn't be talking like this at all.

"I don't want you. I don't need your friendship anymore, and I don't need you to be my biggest fan."

CeCe doesn't trust herself to speak for a moment, instead letting the silence speak for itself as something inside her falls. Her breathing is irregular and there are no words that come to mind to make this right. So instead of setting out for the right, CeCe looks for answers.

"Last year, on my birthday, you – you called. You made it seem like we were okay. Like we were going to be alright." As it always seems to happen when Rocky speaks to her, tears are threatening to overflow. CeCe doesn't bother to cover the way her voice falters. In the sky, the moon has become shapeless, taking on the form of a bright blur surrounded by others like it. The traffic slows.

"That was…a mistake. A slip of my judgment, you could say."

"So you just don't feel anything anymore?" CeCe demands.

"I feel apathetic."

She can't understand Rocky, and it's that pivotal moment. She needs to hear everything clearly. "Oh my _God,_ English please, speak English –"

"I don't care, CeCe! I don't think about you, not anymore, and I don't want to see you. I don't want anything to do with you."

"I didn't know New York would do this to you, Rocky, or else I wouldn't have told you to leave in the first place. You were right, it's all wrong there. You're not acting like yourself."

"No." The syllable sent shivers down CeCe's spine, tears escaping unchecked now. "You're wrong. I'm acting just like me."

"That's a lie! You're not the girl I knew –"

"She's gone," Rocky whispers. "The girl who loved you is gone. She doesn't exist."

Below, someone shouts loudly to their friend. But CeCe remains, all feeling gone. She'd been shaking. She remembers shaking – but like rain, Rocky's words washed away every feeling in her body, leaving her void of sensation and numb. The only thing she knows is inside of her, tapping away in mockery, reminding her to come back to reality. _Tap, tap._

The worst part is that she wants to feel everything. Where there's nothing, she wants to feel, to cry, to smile, to hurt, something, _anything_ has to be better than this vacuum she is trapped in.

"Okay," CeCe says hoarsely, hardly bothering to hold the phone anymore.

"Am I clear?"

"Yes. Bye." Before she hears any response, CeCe hangs up and throws her phone hard against the ground, wanting anger, a reaction. Instead, she feels empty.

.

.

_One year later._

"Flynn, you're insane if you think I have time to perform at your friend's party. Gary's stacked us all up double this week – plus, it's finals." CeCe stands up from the floor, turning about in search of her phone as her little brother holds out his hands prayer-style in front of her.

"First of all, you never study for finals. Second – Henry is the laughing stock of the eighth grade! It's either this or he hires a clown, which…" Flynn clears his throat. "I vetoed that decision. Clowns are super freaky."

CeCe snorts, shaking her head as she crosses the room and scatters the things on her desk about in her search. "Flynn, have you seen my phone?"

"Depends. Are you performing at Henry's?" CeCe turns on her brother, glaring.

"I'm warning you Flynn, if you don't give me my phone I will go all Ninja Rangers on you."

It is Flynn's turn to snort. He began digging into his pocket before producing CeCe's phone, handing it to her. She snatches it from his hand and immediately scrolls through her new texts, all of which are completely unimportant. Still, she sighs with relief and feels like she just avoided a crisis. "You don't deserve that. You just called the Power Rangers ninjas. That is insulting."

"Oh shut up," CeCe waves as the doorbell rings, saving her from her brother.

"The Rangers will be avenged!" Flynn screams after CeCe, who rolls her eyes without response. She walks to the door, humming absentmindedly to herself until reaching the front frame and turning the doorknob. The door comes loose easily as always, and CeCe's tune immediately stops. Her heart stops for a beat as well, surprise obvious on her face. She doesn't say a word, only stares at the figure in the door incredulously. The figure shuffles in a show of nerves, which prompts CeCe to finally speak.

"Dad?"

"Hi, pumpkin." The nickname brings to the surface more feelings than CeCe is willing to face. She quickly looks back to the apartment, glancing to see that Flynn stands behind the couch, eyes wide with spread lips. Surprisingly, the expression so closely mirrors CeCe's own that she's overcome by another bout of disbelief, this one causing her to act impulsive. She turns back to her dad and throws her arms around him, burying her face into his chest.

"What are you doing here?!" She demands, words muffled into his shirt. He chuckles and rests his head on hers for a moment. Flynn runs up to CeCe from behind and wraps them both in a hug.

"Your mom invited me," he shrugs. He glances around the immediate area, obviously confused. "Is…your mom here right now?"

"She's on her shift." Flynn answers before CeCe has the chance.

"Oh. I was thinking we could all be together."

"She'll be home soon," CeCe answers and draws back. "Only…seven more hours." She checks her watch and frowns, returning her gaze to her dad, who laughs.

"That's fine, that's fine, just wish she'd told me. Hey, anybody up for some Scrabble?"

"You suck at Scrabble," Flynn reminds him.

"Right. Apples to Apples, then."

"Sure thing, dad!" CeCe smiles and moves to the corner of the room, where the family keeps all of their games. Over the years they'd stacked up quite haphazardly, and CeCe is almost afraid they'll bury her, but the fear never comes true.

"Actually, just Flynnie and me, sweetheart," her dad corrects, clearing his throat. CeCe's face falls. "I have a present for you," he continues, and she brightens. "It's a little old, but you used to love it when you were a kid. I thought I would give it back to you." He shrugs.

CeCe turns to the door then back to her dad. "Alrighty, um, where is it?"

"Outside the building. I didn't wanna take it inside, wanted to see what you thought first. Just walk out, you can't miss it."

With one more nod of encouragement from her dad, CeCe leaves the room and walks down the hall. She is cautious to pace herself, despite the growing excitement and curiosity inside of her. Since he'd talked about it like it is something that used to be important to her when she was little, CeCe guesses it's something she's cared about before. She's not sure whether that's a good or bad thing, but it certainly doesn't stop the excitement from growing.

The walk down through the building takes longer than she remembers usual, and by the time she arrives at the back of the front doors, the curiosity is too much. With a flourish she opens the doors, arms far out beside her as she rests her gaze on a strange sight.

"Hi, CeCe," Rocky says.

.

.

It takes her back to when she was a kid. There's something enjoyable in the way things always work out when you're little. Even if you argue with someone you love, you'll most likely forgive and forget in the next five minutes like it's nothing. But then life kicks in. You're introduced to the real world, a world that's not afraid to be cruel. Stubborn natures arise in us all and we hold grudges, get even, and not even time can be seen as a healer anymore.

A year is not long enough. Looking at Rocky across the steps, CeCe knows a year will never be long enough. She's unsure there's any amount of time that could pass with her forgiving Rocky for the things she's done. All this judgment and Rocky has only said two simple words.

CeCe doesn't speak. Instead, she watches Rocky through her lashes and waits for a sign to let her know who this is. Is this New York Rocky? Or could it possibly be the Chicago Rocky that she'd – been friends with?

"I have a lot of things I need to say. A lot. I actually uh, made a speech." CeCe quirks an eyebrow but keeps a straight face. Speeches are definitely signaling toward the old Rocky. Rocky fumbles nervously with her jean pockets, finally pulling out a crumpled up and folded piece of paper that appears to have been well-worn. She clears her throat. "First, hi CeCe. I've already said that but I…really need to repeat it, since I haven't been able to say it for a few years now. Okay. Now, I hope you're doing well, I know things can get difficult sometimes." Rocky looks especially nervous now. "Next, I quit my job."

It's the first part of Rocky's speech that takes CeCe by surprise. Her eyes widen and then narrow, training on Rocky, who has looked up from the paper and is watching her reaction. "Why's that?" CeCe speaks for the first time.

Rocky looks relieved to hear her voice. "Because that's not what's important to me. My contract expired, so there was nothing keeping me there."

"What's important?"

"Chicago. My family." She frowns. "You."

CeCe nods, accepting the answer. She ignores the old fluttering in her chest, the feeling she'd believed she wouldn't have to face again.

"Also, most importantly, I want to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a real bitch back in New York. Please, CeCe, let me finish. I told you some really awful things, I know they were wrong now, but…please. I didn't mean any of it. I could see how upset you were that day right after I left, when we talked and I said I was fine. You were broken. I was breaking you, CeCe, and I knew that I had to let you go. So I told the staff to reject your calls. I thought that maybe, if I ignored you, you would be alright and I wouldn't be able to hurt you anymore. I was wrong. Then on your birthday I got careless. I missed you too CeCe, but I couldn't say anything. I didn't mean to call, but it was your _birthday_, and I had to talk to you. So I started ignoring you again. And then a year ago." CeCe is looking away, lower lip caught in her teeth to stop its shaking. Rocky is refusing to look anywhere else.

"You were still thinking about me. I couldn't let you do that to yourself. You called me, but even if you hadn't, I would've called soon. Telling you those things was my way of setting you free. I didn't want to be so harsh, but I knew that if I showed any weakness or sign of caring you'd think it was a fluke. So I didn't. I'm sorry."

CeCe sits down on the steps with the weight of the words all bearing against her, intensified by Rocky's desperate look. She locks eyes with her for the first time but then shies away again, crossing her arms over her chest. She is not sure what to think, or know, or believe, now. She'd spent the past year thinking Rocky hated her. Every time she thought about it at all there had been numbness, a feeling shehated. But if what Rocky had said was true, it means that she'd been trying to help. It is so unusual for her, being in this position; as kids, it always seemed to be CeCe apologizing to Rocky for pushing too hard. Now Rocky had not pushed enough.

"I don't expect you to forgive me," Rocky says quietly.

"Good," CeCe replies, looking back up. "Because I don't." She hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but she's not taking it back now, even if Rocky's look sends a pang through her chest. She knows that she deserves to do as she pleases, considering all that Rocky has put her through.

"Thanks for listening to me talk, anyway." Rocky's hands play with the frills at the bottom of her shirt. "I'm uh, moving back in upstairs, if you're wondering. You don't have to talk to me. But it's just so you know." She looks down and begins to walk towards the stairs, giving a wide berth between herself and CeCe. CeCe doesn't ignore the gesture.

"Wait," CeCe says, shaking her head. "Tell me why my dad brought you here."

Rocky stops. "I…went to him," she admits under a blush. CeCe raises her eyebrows.

"You drove all the way to Florida?"

"I didn't know how to face you. I told him some of what happened, and he agreed to help."

CeCe considers Rocky for a moment. "That's insane," she says evenly, to which Rocky smiles and shrugs.

"I'm a bit of a perfectionist if you remember, CeCe. I wanted to do this right."

CeCe does remember, but then again, there are a lot of things she remembers about Rocky. She knows her like the back of her hand. In fact, it is possible she knows the back of Rocky's hand better than her own. The remembrance of her best friend washes over her and she's regretful again. She regrets that what they had is most certainly lost forever, and she regrets that she's not made any attempt to start anew with her.

"Rocky, don't go. You should probably thank my dad." CeCe looks up at Rocky, who is standing right beside her on the stairs.

"Oh – yeah. I can do that later, if you want."

"No, you need to do it now," CeCe says firmly. "And you owe him a round of Apples to Apples. Probably two rounds, at least. FYI, Flynn's a terrible cheat."

Rocky's face slowly brightens, and she suppresses a grin from growing further. CeCe stands along with her, not tearing her gaze away as she forces a smile. She turns and walks up the stairs in front of her, disappearing into the building. Rocky remains for a moment and closes her eyes before following. She knows the way.

.

.

_Three years later._

Traffic, the intensity of which CeCe is not accustomed to, surrounds their every movement. If not the noise of a blaring truck or angry cab driver it's an irritable tourist or a complaining native, all bound into one cesspool of motion and life. The heat is another thing that strikes CeCe. New York is dangerously hot and heavy, while the bundles of pedestrians in Chicago are thankful for each other's presence. Without it, there's hardly any protection from the city's infamous cold.

If not for Rocky occasionally squeezing her hand for reassurance, she's sure she would go insane. The fifth time she feels the squeeze she tugs back, grabbing Rocky's attention with a smile.

"I can't believe you spent three years here. I've been for a half hour and I'm ready to leave." Rocky pouts and looks away, pulling CeCe slightly to the side to avoid fast passerby.

"You're just not used to it yet. You'll love it when you're settled."

"We're here for two days," CeCe points out. "There's not gonna be any settling for me."

Rocky and CeCe fall into a comfortable silence, swinging their hands together despite close quarters with others. Though she's not a fan of the city, CeCe admits to herself that it's beautiful here. The posters everywhere give light to the place, and she's sure they would liven up even a drab, rainy day.

Suddenly, Rocky pulls CeCe roughly to the side. "Look!" She gasps, and CeCe does as she's instructed. They're in what she guesses is the heart of New York, because everywhere CeCe turns there's a billboard advertising something different, all directing towards her. In clear view is a set of red steps, with people chatting amicably, some with food, others on cell phones, all seemingly ignoring each other.

"Wow," is all CeCe can think to say.

Rocky giggles when she is the one being pulled by CeCe, who stomps up the steps. "'Scuse me, pardon me," she says, careless to the others there. Behind her, Rocky gives second apologies to everyone they pass. They only stop when CeCe reaches the top, putting her hands on the railing and standing on her tip toes to get a clear view of everything around.

"Pretty."

"Very," Rocky agrees, eyes for CeCe alone. CeCe turns and smiles at her. Like always, each glance brings a constant fluttering to her chest, the likes of which has become very welcome. Rocky flashes a cheesy grin and CeCe chuckles.

"I love you so much," she says.

"I love you too, CeCe."

Rocky holds out her hand again and CeCe takes it in hers, continuing to watch Rocky as her eyes scan the city. She squeezes without thought, and Rocky turns back with another squeeze.

"I know," she says, and she smiles. "I know, CeCe."

.

_If our hearts are never broken, and there's no joy in the mending_

_there's so much this hurt can teach us both._

_There's distance and there's silence, your words have never left me. _

_t__hey're the prayer that I say everyday._

_._


End file.
